


amid a storm

by sweetberri



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comfort, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Kissing, M/M, Napping, One Shot, Rain, Romance, Sleepy Cuddles, Thunder and Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23179615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetberri/pseuds/sweetberri
Summary: with him, you have no reason to worry.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Reader, Bokuto Koutarou/You, Tsukishima Kei/Reader, Tsukishima Kei/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 111





	1. tsukki

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a while since a storm woke me and made me want to crawl into the safety of my mom's bed, but it happened last night, and i had the urge to write a little something.
> 
> maybe i'll keep adding more characters in the future.

When you had drifted asleep laid out across Tsukishima’s body, legs tangled and head on his chest as ya’ll quietly watched TV on the narrow couch, the sound of thunder was still just a docile grumble in the distance—barely loud enough to even hear over the  _ pitter patter _ of raindrops against the south-facing window and the drone of whatever murder documentary was playing. It was soothing honestly, the distant roll only an auditory accent to the way the blonde boy’s heart beat so steadily against your ear, never changing. Even as your own breathing slowed and eyelids grew too heavy to manage, he stayed consistent, unyielding. Tsukki never was one for naps, especially in the early evening like this, but allowing you to fall asleep against him was a lazy sort of affection he enjoyed.

The next time you opened your eyes, it was nearly fully dark outside; the TV was providing more light than the windows, even with the blinds open. You must’ve been asleep for an hour, maybe an hour and a half, for the murder documentary from earlier had changed to a cheesy sitcom riddled with laugh tracks. It apparently hadn’t met Tsukishima’s standards—his attention was now on his phone, the hand of the arm hanging halfway off the couch lazily scrolling through Twitter while he let his other hand rest behind his head in relaxation.

You might have noticed all this if it wasn’t for the deafening crack of thunder that served as your wake-up call. It jerked you from your bliss and sent your heart rate skyrocketing in what must be world record time, causing you to let out a squeak of alarm. The volume of the boom was harsh enough that it echoed through the sky for several seconds afterwards, slowly dying out behind the fat raindrops pelting the glass, as if it wandered the streets searching for a way to escape the city.

The panic that had gripped your chest so immediately nearly made you forget where you were, what time it was, and you were just about to shoot into a sitting position when an oversized palm came to rest on your head. It was firm in it’s placement, yet still so gentle, holding you still on his chest with only the slightest of pressure.

“You’re alright,” Tsukishima spoke up. You paused, drinking in those words; he said them so matter-of-factly— like it was never even a question—that it was hard to think you could ever possibly doubt him. It always felt that way; every word that came from his mouth was said with such confidence, calculated to the point that you wonder if it was possible to not believe even a single thing he told you.

Slowly, your body untensed, melting back into the lanky boy’s form. He let you shove your forearms under the arch of his back, where they slotted partially between the couch cushions, before the fingers at your hairline began to rub soothing circles into your scalp.


	2. bokuto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's slightly more personal but, same concept.

Perhaps it was childish, to be rattled from your sleep by a thunderstorm. Twenty-something years old, secure in the workforce, and living with your boyfriend of a year and a half, yet one clap of thunder that rattled your chest a little too much would cause your heart to clench and reduce you to a whimpering little kid.

It wasn’t that you hated storms; on the contrary, you actually quite enjoyed them. You had always been drawn to any form of running water, and the drone of raindrops against a window accompanied by distant rolls of thunder often led to some of the most peaceful sleeps of your life. 

But, there was something about a violent storm—the kind where the lightning illuminated a dark room so eerily and the thunder split the sky deafeningly—that threw you back into the mindset of the child who used to hide under the covers from the wailing rain.

You could feel your heart beating a mile a minute, breaths shallow as if they couldn’t keep up. You forced yourself to draw in a deep, ragged breath in a futile attempt to slow your heart rate and rationalize; _it’s just a storm,_ you think, _it’s nothing to get worked up about._ The unfortunate west-facing window didn’t help, with the wind blowing straight into the glass, it howled twice as loud as it really was.

The hulking body of your boyfriend had it’s bare back turned to you, only close enough to touch feet and hang your wrist over his side lazily. The boy was a space heater, and no matter how closely tangled you two fell asleep, your bodies always drifted apart in your sleep. 

At one point in time, Bokuto’s simple presence in the same room as you would have been enough to soothe your nerves during a storm like this, but after living with him for four months now, you guessed your mind had become spoiled. 

The whole room was alight in an instant, even through the pulled curtains. The lightning flashed once, twice, and even though you knew the crack of thunder that was bound to follow shortly would be powerful, you still weren’t ready.

**_BOOM!_ **

This thunder was the kind that sizzled in the air before cracking like a bull whip right in your ear, the echo so deep and long you wondered if you were just hearing things in your fear. It was the last straw in your struggle to resist curling up against Bokuto. Your throat let loose a pathetic squeak and your hands practically clawed at his side to pull your chest flush against his back. Your breath was shallow as you panted onto the nape of his neck, eyes screwed shut so tightly that the colors behind your eyes swirled.

“Babe?” 

The gruff, sleepy voice caught you off guard momentarily. Your grip on him loosened every so slightly, nearly wanting to pull away and curl into yourself in embarrassment at acting like such a baby; it’s not like your boyfriend didn’t know about your little fear, but you couldn’t help but feel like you should be able to control your emotions about something as simple as a storm after all these years of living. Everyone else grew out of their fear of thunderstorms.

“Sorry, Koubo” you whispered, willing him to just fall back asleep. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

After a momentary pause, Bokuto gently peeled your arm away and began twisting himself around to face you. Once he had fully turned your direction, he draped your arm back across his side. His legs slotted between yours, tangling them together in a mess, and his hand against your back pulled you as close as physically possible. With your noses touching and breath mixing together the way it was, you had half a mind to think he was bringing you so close your bodies might actually meld together.

“Storm wake you up?” he murmured quietly, the hand not under your pillow now moving to caress your face comfortingly.

“Mhm,” you only hummed in response, tucking your face down so you weren’t looking at him.

“There’s nothing to worry about. We don’t have them here,” he told you, slightly amused.

And there was the root of the situation; it wasn’t the fear of storms that you didn’t outgrow, it was the fear of tornadoes. Growing up for so long in America, it was a valid concern there, but for some reason you still carried it with you to Japan all these years later.

“I know,” you replied.

“And besides,” he placed his fingers under your chin and forced you to look him in those honey eyes of his. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you whispered again, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Bokuto’s hand slid from your cheek to fall between your shoulder blades, pressing you ever closer. His head lifted and he dipped in to close the gap between your lips. You accepted him gladly, mouth parting ever so slightly for him.

The way he kissed you when he comforted you was its own experience in itself, so different from the light pecks of affection he offered throughout the day or the heated makeouts that led to sex. They reminded you of how someone would swaddle a baby to calm it: the way the warmth in his lips and arms let his emotions engulf you and slow your heart, the way he would playfully nip at your skin ever to slightly to get you to smile, the way he only pulls away just enough to look down into your eyes and murmur ‘I love you,’ against your skin. These kisses were reserved solely for times like these, when you needed an extra reminder that everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love the nicknames that combine the first and last name, so i came up with koubo. i think its kinda cute.


End file.
